


Shot Through the Heart

by LittleDarlingXOX



Series: Alternate Episode Series [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, Episode: s05e11 Shot Through the Heart, F/M, Kidnapping, Love/Hate, Major Character Injury, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 04:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5276477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDarlingXOX/pseuds/LittleDarlingXOX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if episode 11 "Shot Through the Heart" in season 5 had ended differently? Neal uses himself as bait to draw out Rebecca, but doesn't predict the card Rebecca has hidden up her sleeve. Contains some plot points from episode 12 concerning Mozzie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Through the Heart

Rebecca stared down at the handcuffs that linked them together, a look of amused shock gracing her features.

“The FBI’s on the way.” stated Neal. He dropped the flash drive of blackmail information that had been held over him for far too long already onto the ground and crushed the plastic under his heel.

“You called the Feds?” asked Rebecca, like she couldn’t believe Neal was capable of being that stupid.

“You killed my new handler.” Neal countered. He was still bitter about that, but truthfully, that was only one of the reasons why he had made the call. David Siegel had been a good man and a good handler, even for the short amount of time that Neal had known him. Neal was a con man and he was used to picking up on the bad types right away. David had had that same drive for answer that Neal saw in Peter. Neal could see nothing wrong with it until it got him killed for coming too close to Rebecca— _Rachel_ , Neal corrected himself, mentally. This was Rachel Turner he was standing in front of. MI5 agent. Killer.

Still, Neal had never known her as Rachel, and with her hair still long and dyed red it felt pointless to think of her as anything but a darker version of the Rebecca he’d dated.

Rebecca drew her gun from the waistband of her pants and cocked it at Neal. He shifted backwards as far as their cuffed hands would allow. “Don’t make me do this, Neal.”

Neal glanced down at the gun pointed at his chest and shook his head.  “Too late. It’s over”

“You’re an idiot.” Rebecca sneered. “We could have had everything.”

“It wouldn’t have been real.”

“You’re a con man, you could have convinced yourself but instead you choose to stay shackled.” Neal wasn’t sure if her nod was at his anklet or their cuffed hands, but at the moment either one was a sufficient example to prove her point.

“But still freer than you.” Neal quirked an eyebrow at her, undeterred even as she laughed mockingly in his face. “You’re always running from one identity to the next because you can’t face the truth.”

“What’s that?” Rebecca asked, attempting to look curious, but Neal caught the twitch in her jaw, the thinning of her lips that she couldn’t control that revealed her true feelings. She already knew what he was going to say, but Neal spat the words out at her anyway, savoring in seeing her reaction.

“That you hate who you really are and I can see why.”

Rebecca said nothing, instead she pulled down the safety on her gun. Neal took a steadying breath and stared at the silencer, waiting for the gunshot that would stop his heart. Peter had convinced him that Rebecca loved him, but Neal had a feeling she didn’t love him enough to stick around and get arrested.

“You know me so well? You’d know I never turn up without a way out.”

Neal did know that, it was something he’d picked up about her quickly over the course of this week.  “Actually there are three ways out.” he said, hoping to draw her towards where the FBI were lying in wait. “Through the south window or one of two doors.”

Rebecca smirked at him with such sudden confidence it had Neal taken aback. “You’ve always underestimated me. There’s a fourth way.”

Neal sighed and nodded towards the dresser. “You’re right. Behind that dresser is a door, take it and it’ll lead you out into a back alley.”

Rebecca laughed. “Underestimating me again, Neal. I knew you were going to try that trick on me, just like you tried to get me to confess to you in the park. No… that’s not the one I was talking about.”

She reached for her jacket pocket with her cuffed hand, tugging Neal closer to her in the process. She drew her cellphone out of her pocket and hit a number on speed dial. “Hey,” she said to someone on the other end of the line. “put him on.”

She extended the phone towards him with a smile that was anything but sweet. “It’s for you.”

Neal took the phone and lifted it hesitantly to his ear. “Hello?”

“Bonjour, mon frère. I’m afraid we didn’t foresee this outcome.”

Neal glanced worried at Rebecca. “Moz? What’s happened? Where are you?”

“It’s quite a poetic justice actually. My one true love in life is actually my—” Mozzie broke of with a hacking cough that left him slightly breathless so that the last part of his sentence came out as a wheeze. “ — _my demise_.”

Neal could clearly hear the coughing fit that occurred afterwards.

“Mozzie?” Neal barked into the phone when his friend’s voice didn’t return.

“What did you do to Mozzie?” Neal growled, rounding on Rebecca.

Rebecca extended her hand for the phone. Neal slapped it into her palm. “I spiked one of your bottles of wine with poison. Nothing that can’t be reversed if the antidote is brought to the hospital doctors fast enough.”

“Why?” asked Neal. “What did Mozzie ever do to you?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Nothing, but like I said, Neal. I know you. I studied you for a long time before I became Rebecca, and I know that you’ll do anything to save your friends.”

“You really are heartless.”

Rebecca made a face. “Yeah, it’s really keeping me up at night. Here’s the deal… you get me out of here without the FBI seeing and I’ll have my man tell Mozzie’s doctors what the antidote is.”

Neal sighed. “Fine.”

“Aww, don’t look so glum, Handsome.” Rebecca grinned like a predatory animal. “You should be happy I’m not putting a bullet in your chest.”

Neal stopped mentally calculating  the least guarded exit just long enough to flashed her an entirely fake smile. “Lucky me.”

Neal decided on the south window, since he had told Peter he would be herding Rebecca towards the back of the building, and tugged on his trapped arm to urge Rebecca to follow after him. “This way.”

Neal lead the way to the window, aware the entire time of the gun Rebecca had trained at the back of his head. He braced himself against the window frame and kicked at the boards that barred any entry. They emerged out onto a fire escape and hurried down the steps, their feet quiet on the rain-slick metal grating.

“Come on,” It was Rebecca’s turn to lead, tugging Neal along by the handcuff for two blocks before she deemed them out of the FBI radius. She pulled him into an alleyway behind a chinese restaurant, the dumpster bins overflowing with trash bags shielding them from the headlights of passing cars and any curious eyes.

“Keys.” She gestured with her gun at their linked hands. Neal pulled the small handcuff key out of his pant pocket and unshackled their wrists, stuffing the cuffs back into his pocket.

“Alright, your turn.” said Neal. “Make the call.”  

“Wrong again, Handsome.”

Tires screeched behind Neal. He jerked around to see a van lurch to a stop, the side door sliding open with a bang. Neal stepped back, arms raised to fend off whoever lunged out at him and cried out at the electrifying pain that traveled down from his neck. He crumpled to the trash-strewn ground in a heap of numb limbs, his head cracking against the asphalt. Neal waited for the the nauseating ache to diminish, his breaths coming out in pained gasps.

Red hair fell down across his eyes and tickled his ear.

“Sorry it had to happen this way, Neal.” Rebecca spoke into his ear as her small hand dug into his pocket for his phone.

Someone out of Neal’s sight, probably the person in the van, yanked Neal’s leg out by the foot and clipped his anklet. He heard the _clang_ of it as it was tossed into the dumpster. Before he could think to call out for help, he was being lifted around the waist and dragged into the van.

The door shut, locking him in darkness. Neal’s eyes closed and didn’t open for awhile.

 

* * *

 

When Neal resurfaced again, it was with a killer headache — worse than the strongest hangover he had ever woken up with. He groaned, squinting his eyes against the daylight that streamed in through a side window. Neal tried his best to assess his current situation without the use of his eyes. He was seated in a folding chair, the metal cool and firm against his rear. His hands were restrained behind his back, a quick, outward, tug revealed that it was with zip ties, not handcuffs. One secured his wrists tightly together, cutting off circulation, another linked through the first and wrapped around the support rod of the chair. The fact that he couldn’t slide his feet forward told him his ankles were equally shackled.

He should have been grateful that he wasn’t gagged or blindfolded, but with the way his head was ringing at the moment, he would have appreciated something to block out the light. It was a slow process, opening his eyes, with a lot of blinking through watery eyes but eventually he was able to see. He took in the bare, loft-space he’d been placed in. Boarded windows lined one wall of the large room, fracturing the sunlight into thin rays. There wasn’t much in the space besides a table with a laptop sitting on top, a few stacked, plastic, containers, and a bare mattress. It wasn’t exactly fine living.

At that moment the industrial sliding door at the end of the room opened and Rebecca entered, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She smiled when she saw that Neal was awake and dropped her bag on the table, making her way over to him. Neal glared up at her as she came to stand in front of him.

 “Sleeping beauty, you’re finally awake.” She stepped up to one side of Neal’s chair and swung one leg over to the other side, planting herself on top of Neal’s knees, arms wrapping around Neal’s neck to rest on the backrest. Her fingers played with the baby hairs at the back of Neal’s neck. “That’s a shame. I was hoping I’d have to kiss you awake.”

Neal jerked his head away from her inquisitive fingers. “I think in this scenario you’re the dragon, not Prince Charming.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “Does that make Agent Burke your knight in shining armour?” Rebecca laughed. “How disgustingly sweet.”

Neal ignored her. “What am I doing here, Rebecca?”

“Haven’t you guessed it already, Neal? Afterall, just a few hours ago you were telling me how much you loved me and how you wanted to run away with me. ‘Let’s find the diamond together’, and all that...”

She waved a hand, dismissively.  

“I was telling you what you wanted to hear to buy the FBI time to surround the building.” said Neal.

“Oh I know you were, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still happen.” Rebecca glided her hands through Neal’s hair, unperturbed by his involuntary cringe.  “We can find the diamond together, run away to Paris and live as Nick Halden and Rebecca Lowe. The FBI won’t be able to reach us there.”

Neal shook her fingers loose from his hair, and stared determinedly at the boarded up windows. “Except Rebecca Lowe never existed. You just combined all of the characteristics of my past girlfriends into one persona that you knew I wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Rebecca turned Neal’s face to look into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated with excitement. “But you did fall for me, Neal. Despite all of your stiff words, I know how you truly feel about me. I’d do it again for you, Neal. I’ll make myself into anything you want—  with Kate’s hair color, Sarah’s temper, Alex’s sensuality… whatever combination you wanted. You’re a con man, it wouldn’t take much to make yourself believe it after awhile.”

She gripped Neal’s jaw tightly and smashed her lips to his own. Her tongue, warm and slick, worked its way between his stiff lips to explore deeper. Neal groaned and tried to twist free of her hold, his hands tugging uselessly against their bindings. Rebecca’s thighs were like iron, squeezing and pinning him to the chair so he couldn’t toss her off of him. When she released him, Neal was left gasping. He tried in vain to wipe his mouth against the shoulder of his suit jacket, but couldn’t quite reach.

“You can’t tell me that a kiss like that doesn’t bring back memories.” said Rebecca with a smile.

“It does actually,” Neal glared up at her through the hair in his eyes. “of a lecherous, burly, Russian that I let stick his tongue down my throat in exchange for a manual on truck repair so I could escape from Supermax. I gotta say… he was a _much_ better kisser.”

Rebecca laughed at him and tapped him mockingly on the cheek. “Ohh, I like it when you get feisty, Caffrey.” Her eyes narrowed. “Save some of that for tonight. For now, I think I’ll give you some time to think... weigh out your options.”

She slid off of Neal’s knees and moved towards the door, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll send my new partner in in a few hours to bring you some food and water, and make sure you don’t have an accident.”

The door slid shut with a bang and Neal sighed to himself, his fingers already searching along the back of the chair for a sharp piece of metal to saw through his bindings with. He hoped he could make an escape before Rebecca came back with any other deranged ideas about how to make him love her again.

Neal hadn’t been able to find anything sharp to use as a knife, so instead he’d changed tactics. He clenched his arm muscles tight and rubbed his palms together, working up friction and a thin layer of sweat along his arms that he used to slick his wrists. He squeezed his fingers tightly together and twisted, slowly working his wrist up against the zip ties until he could slip it through. It took nearly an hour for one of Neal’s hands to _finally_ slip free of the plastic and by that point the skin on his other wrist was chafed raw. Thankfully, though there was enough room to free his other hand without any further damage. After that, it just took an awkward waddle across the room with Neal’s ankles still bound to the chair legs, forcing him to carry the folding chair against his back. He was glad no one was around to witness it, because this was definitely not one of his grander escapes.

He searched through the top plastic container one-handed, the other keeping the chair from clanging against the floor and alerting his captors.

“ _Come on_ ,” Neal hissed. His eyes landing on the handle of a pair of pliers. It would have to do. He snatched them out of the bin and crouched down, worming the metal tongs in between the plastic band and his skin. He squeezed the tongs shut, twisting the pliers in a tight circle. If he could weaken the material enough, he might be able to snap the ties.

He worked savagely at the ties, his hands slippery with sweat and eventually was able to break free. Neal looked around the room for an escape route, turning in a quick circle. Only one door that lead to who-knows-where. Neal cross to the nearest window and peeked through the boards. The room he was in seemed to be on the second floor, a lower roof jutting off underneath the row of windows. Neal started prying off the boards, hoping the drop down wasn’t too far. The boards fell in a clatter at his feet.. Neal’s eyes flickered between the far door and the glass panels on the window as he yanked his jacket off and wrapped it around his fist.

He stared at the jacket, a silly part of Neal unwilling to ruin a perfectly good suit even if it would lead to his escape.

“Sorry about this, Byron.” He punched a hole in the glass and knocked the broken shards out of the frame, clearing a safe path for him to climb over. The far door crashed against the end of its track.

“ _Neal_ ,” Rebecca advanced towards him, gun raised. “don’t make me hurt you.”

Neal half turned back towards her, one leg dangling out the window. He raised his hand defensively at the sight of the gun.

“I know you don’t want to shoot me, Rebecca.” said Neal. “You won’t be able to get me past airport security with a gunshot wound and I can guarantee you that any delays in your plan will bring Peter and the rest of the FBI one step closer to finding us.”

“Smart boy,” she flicked her gun sideways. “Now step back inside and this won’t have to turn ugly for you.”

Neal’s eyes flickered to the roof below him, then back to Rebecca. “Afraid I can’t do that.”

He threw himself sideways, tucking into a corkscrew roll. He expected the impact with the roof to hurt. But that still didn’t prepare him for the pain and the horrible moment of breathlessness that occurred afterwards as the air was pummeled out of his body. He stared up at the window he’d just jumped from, drawing in a breath that was more of a croak than anything else. Rebecca appeared in the window frame, her expression an odd mixture of worry and fury. Despite the burning in Neal’s chest, he shoved himself to his feet and scrambled towards the edge of the roof where the top of a ladder was bolted into the brick siding.

Neal cried out as an incredible pain surged through his calf. He clutched the ladder and looked down at his leg, the grey material quickly staining a darker color. She’d shot him, obviously only in an attempt to stop his escape, but _still_ Neal didn’t think she’d actually _shoot_ him!

He practically fell down the rest of the ladder, landing with a muffled cry on his injured leg. Neal looked around wildly, unsure of his surroundings and the best place to head off in. He moved left, clinging close to the wall— both for protection from Rebecca’s gun and because he was finding it hard to continue moving without the wall to support him.

He rounded the building and suddenly found himself face to face with Rebecca’s new partner; a man that looked like Jones, if Jones were a few feet taller and pumped full of steroids.

“Hey, hey…” Neal fell back against the bricks as the man advanced towards him with a dangerous looking crowbar, suspiciously rusted on one end. Neal’s imagination didn’t have to work too hard to figure out what that was from. “Wait a second…wait— ”

Neal didn’t need to finish that sentence as his attacker was tackled against the wall and pinned there. Neal stared wide-eyed at Peter who had seemingly appeared out of thin air, his gun shoved against the other man’s back.

“FBI,” grunted Peter. “Drop the crowbar and put your hands flat against the wall.”

The perpetrator did as instructed. Neal watched as Peter snapped handcuffs on the man and if the sun happened to be shining a certain way around Peter, illuminating his broad figure in an orange glow, Neal decided it most definitely didn’t mean what he thought it meant.

 

 


End file.
